Burr made as if to pass on without another word, but
she held out her hand to stop him, though she did
not touch him.

“Stop, Burr,” she said, with a strange,
almost oratorical manner, that he had never seen in
her before. It was almost as if she mounted before
his eyes a platform of her own love and higher purposes.
“Listen to me,” she said. “That
night when I was in such terrible anger with you that
for a second I would have killed you, I put it out
of your power forever to do anything that could turn
me against you again. I broke my own spirit that
night, Burr. The wrong I would have done you
outweighs all you ever have done or ever can do me.
There is no wrong in this world that you can do me,
if I will not take it so; and as for the wrong you
may have done yourself—­that only makes
me more faithful to you, Burr.”

Burr stood looking at her, speechless. It was
to him as if he saw the true inner self of the girl,
which he had dimly known by half-revealings but had
never truly seen before. For a minute it was
not Madelon Hautville in flesh and blood who stood
before him, but the ghost of her, made evident by
her love for him; and his very heart seemed to melt
within him with shame and wonder and worship.
“Oh, Madelon!” he gasped out, at length.

Then they passed without touching each other.
Madelon went home down the lane, across the fields,
and Burr went out in the silent street, whence all
the wedding-guests had departed, and homeward also.

Chapter XXVI

In this little Vermont village, lying among peacefully
sloping hills, away from boisterous river-courses,
there was small chance of those physical convulsions
which sometimes disturb the quiet of generations.
The roar of a spring freshet never smote the ears of
the dwellers therein, and the winters passed with
no danger of avalanches. From its sheltered situation
destructive storms seldom launched themselves upon
it; the oldest inhabitant could remember little injury
from lightning or hail or wind.

However, there is no village in this world so sheltered
in situation that it is not exposed to the full brunt
of the great forces of human passion, when they lash
themselves at times into the fury of storm. It
was here in this little village of Ware Centre, which
could never know flood or volcanic fire, as if a sort
of spiritual whirlpool had appeared suddenly in its
midst. The thoughts of all the people, lying
down upon their pillows, or rising for their daily
tasks, centred upon it, and it was as if the minds
of all were prone upon the edge of it, gazing curiously
into the vortex.